


Sherlock's Kisses

by okapi



Series: Your Extra Time and Your Kiss [8]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Lestrade, Fem!Sherlock, Fem!mycroft, First Kiss, Fluff, Genderswap, Kissing, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Male!Anthea, Male!Donovan, Mister Hudson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: Sherlock's many kisses. Fluff.Genderswap everybody. Sherlock/John. 221bs.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Your Extra Time and Your Kiss [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/94709
Comments: 40
Kudos: 24
Collections: Kissathon





	1. Charlotte Tilbury in Bond Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the descriptions of different kind of kisses on DW undeadrobin's [Kissathon](https://undeadrobins.dreamwidth.org/16502.html).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibling kisses on the forehead. Last scene of "A Study in Pink." POV Anthea.

“Whose status, ma’am?”

“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”

He looked up and saw her some yards away [He had various names for her depending on how much trouble she’s causing, but in moments of distraction, he was reduced to pronouns.].

She stopped and turned and strode purposefully back towards them.

What did she want? She’d already delivered her exit line and flounced off.

She headed straight for them, or rather, straight for M [Since the first interview, he has called her ‘M’ in his mind.]. Her purpose he could not discern.

 _Oh, go on with your new playmate, Brat_ , he thought uncharitably.

He has always aspired to his supervisor’s level of reserve. Stiff upper lip doesn’t begin to describe it.

M didn’t blink or flinch or show any sign when her younger sister rose on her toes and planted pink lips squarely on her forehead. But he did.

It was enough to make him forget his Blackberry.

“What?!” he cried.

M said nothing.

“Thank you, Mycroft. For everything you did to get me clean. For not giving up on me, even when he insulted you, abused you, took you for granted, lied, stole, and did everything in my power to destroy myself. he needed to be clean for yesterday, today, tonight. he didn’t believe you until now. You were right: it does get better.”

* * *

Once in the car, he reached in his satchel and offered M a handkerchief.

She folded the cambric carefully, then pressed it to her forehead. When she brought it down, there was perfect impression of pink lips on the square of cloth.

“Shall Georges drop you off first?”

“Are you returning to the office, ma’am?” His place is by her side until she indicates otherwise, which is more often than many people, including ex-Army doctors, might suppose.

“No, I’m going home.”

“Then, yes, ma’am.”

“Did you upgrade the surveillance level on my sister and her new flatmate?”

She pronounced the final word as only she could, giving two syllables volumes of significance.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, ma’am.” His attention became riveted on his Blackberry, thumbs flying.

“Sherlock’s behaviour is, as ever, very distracting, but take care of it now, please.”

They passed a few minutes in silence broken only by tiny clicking.

“Done, ma’am.”

“Anthea,” his name is not Anthea, but it is what she calls him sometimes, he doesn’t mind, “what colour is this?”

It was a test. He loved tests.

She raised the interior light.

He studied the handkerchief and declared, triumphantly,

“Charlotte Tilbury. Matte Revolution. Bond Girl.”

Her chuckle, and her smile, were a rare single malt scotch.

She rolled her eyes and sighed,

“Bond.”


	2. Kiehl's Butterstick in Touch of Berry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First kiss. Sherlock/John.
> 
> The prompt was: the hesitant kiss.

Sherlock could not see it, but she sensed it.

John had passed behind her on the way to the fridge, chattering about her day at the surgery. She’d reached a point in the narrative and her hand had come down, aiming for Sherlock’s shoulder. She’d stopped just before contact would’ve been made and bent her elbow sharply, sending her hand by her head. She moved on, stumbling in her recounting but quickly picking up the thread and finishing the tale.

Sherlock made an amused grunt.

“The thing with the peas for tonight?”

“Sure.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and forced herself to meet John’s gaze.

“The thing you almost did. Just now. It would’ve been okay to do it.”

“Yeah? I wasn’t certain…”

“I know. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“I thought maybe you, you know, didn’t like…”

“I don’t, as a rule, but…”

“Well, if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, let me know, yeah?”

“Of course. I’m not shy about that. And, of course, for my part…”

“Eyeballs in the microwave make me uncomfortable, Sherlock!”

“…will totally disregard your boundaries and sense of domestic hygiene.” Sherlock quirked a smile.

John laughed. “Good. We understand each other. Can I ask you a personal question?”

Sherlock’s heart thumped. “Maybe.”

“What do you have on your lips?”

Sherlock relaxed. “Kiehl’s Butterstick.”

* * *

“It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“Christ, Sherlock, you know, a hundred years ago you would’ve been burnt at the stake!”

“There’s still time.”

“You can’t possibly know what I was thinking.”

“I don’t, but I know it’s wrong.”

“And how do you know that?!”

“Because you stop looking at my mouth.”

“Holy fuck, Sherlock.”

“When I’m wearing this,” Sherlock touched her fingertips to her lips, “your gaze lingers on my mouth an average of two seconds longer than usual. Then, immediately, you think something, go sad, and turn away. I don’t know what you’re telling yourself, but I know it’s wrong.”

“Nothing like getting caught out, is there? All right, I might as well say it. My life here, with you, is good. Really good. The occasional bag of thumbs in the fridge aside, I love living here, love accompanying you on cases, love everything, and I was thinking it would be very stupid of me to do anything to jeopardise that.”

“What about me?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What if I did something to jeapordise it?”

“Like what?”

Sherlock crossed the space between them and brushed her lips against John’s. “Like that,” she whispered, her breath caressing John’s cheek. She did it again, like the swipe of paint on a blank on a wall, and waited, hesitant and baited.


	3. Kieh's Love Oil for Lips in Botancial Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First kiss. 
> 
> The prompt was: the breathtaking kiss.

“Sherlock?”

So that was being kissed by John Watson. Interesting.

Sherlock opened her eyes. John was looking at her, her brow furrowed, her expression, half-amused, half-concerned.

Sherlock realised her mouth was hanging open. She closed it. Then she opened it again.

“I liked that.”

One corner of John’s mouth lifted. “I’ll take it as a high compliment, reducing you to stating the obvious.”

What had just happened?

Sherlock had kissed John and waited.

And then…

_WHAM!_

John had kissed her back.

John’s hands had twined in Sherlock’s hair, gripping her head tightly. John’s mouth had pressed hard against hers.

Instinctively, Sherlock’s bottom lip had dropped, and John’s tongue had caressed it.

John had tilted Sherlock’s head to one side, then inclined her own head in the opposite direction. They slotted together perfectly.

John’s tongue was still moving, flat and wide and slowly. John’s mouth opened and closed against Sherlock’s.

Like a fish. Like a very sexy fish which was short-circuiting Sherlock’s brain. Not a fish, then, perhaps an electric eel.

This was happening. The word was spinning around them. Presumably, the clock was still ticking, but Sherlock knew that for her time was standing still.

“Breathe, Sherlock.”

“I am breathing, John,” Sherlock snapped. “If I’m talking, I’m breathing. But what does it matter? Breathing’s boring. Kissing, kissing you, is not boring.”

* * *

“So, we’re doing this? We’re kissing.”

“Obviously.”

“One-time thing or…?”

“We could do it again sometime. Like now.”

John smiled. Her hands fell to Sherlock’s nape. Sherlock wrapped her arms round John’s waist. Their lips met. Slower, wetter, but just as intense as the first. Sherlock’s mind went blank again, but for a shorter duration.

“Sherlock,” John dropped her head against Sherlock’s shoulder, “I suggest that we take this very slow. And I mean that sincerely, not, you know, like they do in films when one of them says ‘let’s take it slow’ and the other one says ‘yeah’ and then the next shot is of them fucking on the rug.”

“We don’t have a rug.”

“Right. But…”

“John.”

“…I don’t want to fuck this thing up, Sherlock. You’re too special, too extraordinary. I can’t believe how lucky I am. This can’t be…”

“John.”

“Yeah?”

“’Slow’ means kissing?”

“Yeah.” John’s slightly glassy gaze fell to Sherlock’s mouth. “Christ, your lips, Sherlock. Is that the, oh, what’s it called? Buttercream?”

“Kiehl’s Butterstick in Touch of Berry.”

John nodded. “I like it.”

“Kiehl’s also makes a Love Oil for Lips. I have it in Botanical Blush.”

John giggled.

“I like making you laugh, John.” John blushed rather un-botanically. “If you’d like to try it…”

John’s eyes returned to Sherlock’s mouth. “Second hand’s better.”


	4. MAC Retro Matte Liquid Lipstick in Feels So Grand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock & John kiss on a case. 
> 
> The lipstick: [MAC Retro Matte Liquid Lipstick in Feels So Grand](https://www.maccosmetics.co.uk/product/13854/37620/products/makeup/lips/lipstick/retro-matte-liquid-lipcolour?utm_source=ran&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_campaign=TnL5HPStwNw&utm_content=10&utm_term=2116208&ranMID=42082&ranEAID=TnL5HPStwNw&ranSiteID=TnL5HPStwNw-zpOJe9y35Tq7l7aEQFN7Ug#/shade/Feels_So_Grand). 
> 
> The prompt was: the empty kiss.
> 
>  **Warning:** Sherlock is on the receiving end of un-fun groping and touching in the beginning.

He chuckled nastily and made an unsophisticated grope of her breast as he draped her dark faux ermine cloak about her bare shoulders.

“And what was that for, my dear?” he asked with a condescending sniff.

“Oh, that? Well, I didn’t have any small notes for a proper tip, so,” she shrugged and pulled the sides of the cloak together, pinning them with a jeweled clasp, “I thought I’d give the poor lump something nice. I bet it’s the best tip she’s gotten all night.” She hung a small beaded purse by a strap on her wrist.

“Is it just coat check girls, or do you show your appreciation for good service by kissing all the attendants you encounter?” He slipped on his own coat, and his eyes fell shamelessly from her red lips to the plunging neckline of her bodice.

They walked toward the exit. He held the door open.

“Why?” she asked, with a teasing smile. “Are you thinking of trading hedge funds for barkeeping? Or housekeeping?”

“I suppose it depends on how good you kiss.”

He swatted her bottom as she passed.

“So, where next?” she asked, looking up and down the street.

“My place?”

“Sounds good.”

“I do my own coat checking, by the way.”

She hummed and widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. “Even better.”

* * *

When the police car was finally out of sight, Sherlock sighed.

“Good job,” said Lestrade. “The bastard still doesn’t suspect a thing.”

The two of them were islands in a stream of constables and technicians flowing back and forth from the entrance of the building to the parked vehicles.

“He’s an idiot,” said Sherlock.

“Nasty idiot, though.”

Sherlock hummed in agreement.

“But you, Sherlock! That dress! Those red lips!” Lestrade whistled. “The night’s still young.”

“I’m going home. My feet hurt.”

Lestrade’s eyes fell to the stilettos. She nodded.

A police car pulled up.

“Donovan! Our chariot awaits!” cried Lestrade. “We’ve got a bit of interrogation and a lot of paperwork ahead of us. Thanks for the help, Sherlock.”

“John helped, too.”

“Did she now? You and her are still…?” Lestrade waggled her eyebrows.

“Yes,” said Sherlock defensively. “She and I are!”

Lestrade chuckled. “I don’t find that nearly as annoying as I once did.” She turned. “Ready, Donovan?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave Sherlock an up-and-down glance that halted at her mouth.

“Shit,” said Lestrade. “I forgot my umbrella again. Give us a minute, Donovan.”

“Hello…Sherlock.”

Sherlock stepped forward and whispered. “MAC Retro Matte Liquid in Feels So Grand.”

Donovan’s eye widened as Sherlock slipped the tube in his pocket.

“And, yes, it would suit you, or rather Miss Magnifique, beautifully.”

* * *

John looked up, smirked, and lowered a dog-eared Agatha Christie paperback to her lap.

“And how was your night?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” said Sherlock dryly as she removed the stole. “Caught a Bad Guy. Kissed a Good Girl.”

John grinned and got to her feet. “She didn’t kiss you back, though, the Good Girl.”

“No, she didn’t respond at all. I think she was too surprised. My fault entirely. I went off script.”

“Maybe she was intimated by your bright red lips.”

“Maybe. Wait.” Sherlock removed her shoes. “How ‘bout now?”

They kissed sweetly, chastely.

“You look gorgeous, Sherlock.”

“You were amazing, John.”

“Me? What did I do? My part wasn’t very difficult. Fiddle with a bloke’s coat?” She shrugged.

“He didn’t suspect a thing.”

“He didn’t even know of my existence, Sherlock. Except to mock it after you kissed me.”

“I know! It was brilliant! It’s like,” Sherlock turned and waved at the book in John’s armchair, “she says.”

“That someone like me is invisible? Yeah. Especially in a uniform like that.”

“You’re not invisible to me, John. You’re irresistible. That’s why I kissed you, even though it was reckless. I couldn’t help myself. You were just too perfect.”

One corner of John’s mouth lifted. “You are something, Sherlock. Tea?”

“Yes, please! Have we got any biscuits?”


	5. Ciaté London Glitter Flip Lipstick in Iconic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock surprises John.
> 
> The prompt was: In the Moment kiss. 
> 
> The lipstick is [Ciaté London Glitter Flip Lipstick in Iconic](https://www.lookfantastic.com/ciate-london-glitter-flip-lipstick-iconic/11512228.html).

John sat on the park bench, waiting. Finally, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and asked,

“Were you there for a case, Sherlock?”

“Nope.”

“Just to surprise me?”

“Yes.”

“To show off?”

“That too.”

John heard the smirk in Sherlock’s voice and shook her head. “And how in the hell did you know I was going to walk into that tea shop? I didn’t even know!”

“First, I knew you had an appointment with Ella, whose office is nearby. You’d never be in the vicinity otherwise.”

“But how did you know I had an appointment? I didn’t tell you.”

“Your personal grooming this morning told me.”

“My grooming?”

“It was extra, but not in the same way, for example, it was when we went to the cinema. You were taking extra pains to appear sane and healthy.”

“I _am_ sane and healthy! Okay. The rest of it?”

“You had an appointment once a week with Ella when you first moved in. Then it was every two weeks, and it’s been five weeks since your last one. So, this was your final appointment, right? You finished early. A good-bye, really. It’s a fine afternoon. You’ve just been given a clean bill of mental health. Oh, yes, a treat’s in store. And that fancy tea shop fits the bill—.”

* * *

John silenced Sherlock with a kiss.

“John.”

“Not Good?”

“Fine. But why?”

“You’re extraordinary, Sherlock, and so damn clever, but I am not clever at all or I would’ve thought through our first kiss in public at a moment when you were wearing blue glitter lip gloss. Now we’re both wearing it, I suppose.”

“Yes.” Sherlock’s expression turned pitying. “It doesn’t suit at all, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have the piercings and earrings and ink and gravity-defying hair with silver streaks to match.” John surveyed Sherlock’s face. “You are a master of disguise. I didn’t even recognise you until you spoke to me.”

“I had to look the part for that shop.”

“Did you know someone there?”

“No, I just walked in and told them I was there to hand out free samples of a new product. Even the manager didn’t question it.”

“Christ, Sherlock. You may not be an angel but I’m glad you’re on the side of them. I like it, though. This look. The blue reminds me of…”

“My scarf?”

“Yeah.”

“Here.”

Sherlock produced a bag and gave it to John, who peered inside.

“A sampler!”

“You’re going to hate every single one.”

“Maybe not.”

“It’s pathological, John. You try a posh tea, make a face, pour it down the drain, and then have a Builder’s.”


	6. Milk Makeup in Werk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a Bit Not Good. There's a row and then a reconciliation.
> 
> I didn't want to put any angst in this but the prompt is 'post-breakup kiss' so it was sort of inevitable. This is borrowing from the original Sherlock Holmes canon story "The Dying Detective," not the BBC Sherlock episode.
> 
> The Lipstick: [Milk Makeup in Werk](https://www.cultbeauty.co.uk/milk-makeup-lip-cheek.html?variant_id=20514).

“You really don’t understand why I’m upset, Sherlock?”

“No, I don’t! I solved the case! And we helped put a very bad person away for a very long time!”

“You had Mister Hudson and me convinced that you were dying, Sherlock. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to discover that you were just using us? Using our fear and our love for you?”

“There wasn’t time to tell you the whole story, John. And I wouldn’t have, anyway. I needed Mister Hudson to convince you and you to convince Smith that I was dying. The plan wouldn’t have worked otherwise. You really aren’t that good of an actor, John.”

“You mean I don’t lie as well as you do.” John rubbed a hand over her face. “You’re clever, Sherlock. There wasn’t any other way you could get Smith except by putting Mister Hudson and me through the wringer?”

Sherlock bit her lip, then shrugged. “You shot a man for me the day after we met. You’ve always…we’ve always…even before we really knew each other. You played your part beautifully.”

“I don’t really appreciate being a pawn, Sherlock.” John sighed heavily and murmured to herself. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh, that was easy. And vintage. Victorian, even. Belladonna for the eyes and for the lips, beeswax.”

* * *

“…and as for the…”

M’s gaze rose. Her voice faltered. She looked over his shoulder.

“Ma’am?” he asked after the second beat of pregnant silence. He turned his head and followed her eyes to the scene beyond the glass doors. “That’s Doctor Watson,” he observed, immediately lowering his voice to the ‘personal matters’ registry.

“Yes, it is,” murmured Mycroft, matching his conspiratorial whisper.

“She’s here. In the middle of the day. Without Sherlock,” he said, then added, with a mix of surprise, incredulity, and rue, “And wearing make-up.”

“Yes.”

“Make-up that doesn’t flatter her at all.” He turned back to look at M.

“It doesn’t flatter her because it isn’t hers. She’s borrowed it.” M was frowning. “It’s…”

His mind whirred trying to name the lip + cheek duo and failed.

“Milk Makeup in Werk.” M made a grimace around the last word. Then she looked down at the documents between them. “Can you handle this?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly, trying to keep the ‘it’s Christmas!’ note out of his voice. He loved handling things. It more than made up for the fact he hadn’t been able to beat M to identifying the colour on Doctor Watson’s face.

“Tea for two, please. Good tea. No interruptions.”

“Of course,” he replied without so much as a quiver of a well-manicured brow.

* * *

“Damn, this tea is good.”

Mycroft bit back a smile of pride as she put her cup in its saucer. “Now, Doctor, how I can I help you?”

“Permission to speak freely?”

Mycroft did smile. She couldn’t help it. “Permission granted.”

“Do you know want to know why Lestrade’s been avoiding you?”

Stunned, Mycroft chose counterattack. “What did Sherlock do to drive you to spent last night somewhere other than Baker Street?”

_Don’t say drugs, don’t say drugs, don’t say drugs._

“You read up on the Smith case?”

“Yes.”

“Sherlock pretended to be dying and got Mrs. Hudson and myself to believe she was dying. I was terrified. She thought it a lark.”

Mycroft concealed her relief as she poured herself another cup of tea. “About the other, yes, I want to know.”

“Lestrade lost that poncey umbrella you gave her.”

The cup froze mid-way to Mycroft’s lips. She put it down and gave a strange, beleaguered sigh.

“She thinks it’s a sign that she’s not right for you. Also, I take it your schedules haven’t been helping matters.”

Mycroft made a noise of acknowledgement.

“Sherlock says you prefer to talk rather than text and that you learned Serbian in, like, hours. Why don’t you apply that genius to the nuances of phone sex? That’s my advice. Now, please, this Sherlock business.”

* * *

The violin stopped as John neared the front door. When John reached the sitting room, Sherlock was standing facing the fireplace, her back to John.

“Collecting your things?” she asked.

“Only if you’re kicking me out.”

“Why would I—?”

John closed the distance between them and silenced her. The kiss said everything that John wanted to say, and Sherlock kissed back just as desperately.

They came up for air, panting, with their foreheads still touching.

“I shouldn’t have left,” said John. “I won’t do it again. A walk to clear my head but not overnight. I mean what I said: I’m not leaving unless you kick me out.”

“Why would I ever want you to leave, John? I can’t promise no more drama but… ”

“I know. I love you, too. We both need to start acting like it. Did you apologise to Mister Hudson?”

“Yes, and I’m conscripted to help with the tea he's hosting next week.”

John smiled at the image. “I stopped by your sister’s office to meddle.”

“I know. You taste like her oolong.” Sherlock's eyes danced to John’s cheek. “And you look like Lestrade’s face. Not your colour, really, I’m afraid.”

“You know, I’m getting a bit tired of you insulting my cosmetic choices. Isn’t it time for hot make-up sex? Take me to bed.”


	7. Fresh Sugar Lip Polish Exfoilator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John in bed. The morning after the previous chapter. 
> 
> Not a lipstick (meaning a color) but a lip product and one I've actually used (and liked): [Fresh Sugar Lip Polish Exfoliator](https://www.fresh.com/us/sugar-lip-polish-exfoliator-H00001924.html?gclid=Cj0KCQjwsYb0BRCOARIsAHbLPhHkNMjwm1NaeEGoYGrxbc7zzzHfkRD9u6cJ2dEUXEELuYDsDItgfoYaAvLREALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds).
> 
> The prompt is: early morning kiss.

It was still dark when Sherlock eased out from under John’s sleeping form and padded to the bathroom.

After tending to her most urgent need, Sherlock washed her hands and considered herself in the mirror.

John might wake up with ideas of picking up where they’d left off the previous night, which was fine with Sherlock, more than fine, but she wanted to look her best.

She brushed her hair and cleaned her teeth.

Her lips?

John liked Sherlock’s lips. A lot.

A bit of something?

No. Wearing make-up in bed, make-up Sherlock’d obviously reapplied, would be pretentious. And there was the real possibility that John would be too sleepy to appreciate or even notice Sherlock’s efforts.

But…

Sherlock found what she sought in a zippered pouch.

She scrubbed her lips with the coarse brown grains, then washed the mess off.

She touched her lips, smiled with satisfaction, and went back to John.

“Christ, Sherlock, your lips are soft.”

John’s voice was thick with sleep, and her fingers were clumsily rubbing Sherlock’s lips. She’d kissed Sherlock but missed Sherlock’s mouth entirely and ended up planting a sloppy peck on Sherlock’s chin.

“It’s Fresh’s Sugar Lip Polish Exfoliator.”

“I don’t know why you don’t speak English in the morning,” grumbled John. “But I’m not going to kiss you, I’ve got dragon breath.”

* * *

“You’re not going to kiss me anywhere? Or just my mouth?” asked Sherlock with mock innocence. She kissed John’s fingertips.

John nuzzled at Sherlock’s neck, then bit gently. “Wicked girl.” Then there was a sharp sniff. “What time is it? Christ, It’s still dark, Sherlock!”

“I’m an early riser.”

“You’re a never-go-to-bed-er.”

“Not true. I went to bed last night fairly early. Under orders, if I recall correctly.”

“Orders?” John snorted. “Like you’ve ever done a damn thing in your entire life that you didn’t want to do.” She chuckled softly. “I’m going to do very naughty things to you in the morning. Right now, I’m going to finish sleeping. Christ, you do feel good, though.” John leaned up. Her lips landed in the middle of Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock grimaced.

“Sorry,” mumbled John. She rolled away.

“John?”

“Hmm?”

Sherlock paused, then said flatly, “Sleep well.”

John made a noise and looked over her shoulder. “Say it.”

“Might I be the big spoon?” Sherlock cringed. She sounded ridiculous.

“Sherlock, my gorgeous girl, you can be the big spoon, little spoon, fork, knife, and chopsticks. Come here, you sound ridiculous, and not for the reason you’re thinking.”

Sherlock eagerly pressed her body to John’s. Then she leaned up and rubbed her closed lips over John’s scar.

John grunted,

“I love you, too, beautiful.”


	8. Too Faced Melted Matte Liquified Long Wear Lipstick in Wine Not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That scene of the searching through all the books in "The Blind Banker." Sherlock in the Purple Shirt of Sex (but no sex). 
> 
> The prompt was: distracted kiss
> 
> The lipstick: [Too Faced Melted Matte Liquified Long Wear Lipstick in Wine Not?](https://www.toofaced.com/product/23487/59015/lip-makeup/lipstick/melted-matte/?cgid=lipsticks&clickid=RHCU6bWgGxyJRw3wUx0Mo38zUki0q1351SJWys0&irgwc=1&utm_content=10079&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_source=ir#/shade/Wine_Not%3F)

John’s eyelid’s fluttered, her head bobbed, she jerked awake.

Damn, she couldn’t rightly remember which was the pile of books she’d already checked and which was the pile of books she hadn’t.

The first tendrils of dawn were creeping into the room.

She and Sherlock had been at this all night.

“Sherlock.”

No answer from the desk except the thump-swish-thump of books.

“Sherlock.”

“Mm?”

John got to her feet, steady herself, then carefully moved to Sherlock’s side.

Sherlock was still wearing John’s favourite shirt, the purple one, with matching lipstick which was pun-tastically named Wine Not?

Without looking up, Sherlock turned in her chair and patted her thigh.

John straddled it. She kissed Sherlock’s temple, her cheekbone, and the point of her jaw.

One of Sherlock’s hands was around John’s waist. With the other, she took a book from one side of the desk, checked a page, then closed the book and set it on the top of a pile on the other side of the desk.

“Sherlock, can we take a break and have some sex?”

“No.”

John held on to Sherlock, careful to put her arm underneath Sherlock so as not to impede her movement, then rested her head over Sherlock’s shoulder.

And so, like a child, John fell asleep to the sound of books, books, and more books.


	9. Marc Jacobs Le Marc Lip Creme in J'Adore (Mystrade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft almost misses her flight. Mystrade. POV Anthea.
> 
> The lip colour is [Marc Jacobs Le Marc Lip Crème in J'Adore](https://www.marcjacobsbeauty.com/le-marc/lip-creme/MJ40005.html?gclid=CjwKCAjw4KD0BRBUEiwA7MFNTXGf848iRMnMv0v7XOIm6o_FRKemgPa-HtjUf6vTQdqRzTldUBWL2RoCF-4QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds).
> 
> The prompt is Can't Let Go Yet kiss.

He paced in front of the gate, checking his Blackberry every three seconds. No message that the trip was cancelled. Or that the flight was changed. Where was she? And what was he to do? Board without her?

They ought to have a protocol by now, but this was unprecedented.

She was always early. Always.

Then, at the very last moment, there she was.

“Apologies.”

The next minutes were absorbed in the banalities of air travel, but when they were finally settled side-by-side, she sighed and said,

“Being accompanied to the airport is a double-edged sword, Anthea. There is the pleasure of having a few more stolen moments with one’s companion, but there is the risk of being so tempted that one never actually departs!” Her face was a study in mild, self-deprecating amusement, so he took a liberty.

“There’s also a risk, ma’am, of having Marc Jacobs Le Marc Lip Crème in J’Adore on your collar.”

Her eyes widened. Her expression turned to stone.

He might get sacked. He might get a raise.

She smiled.

A raise, definitely, a raise.

“I suppose under other circumstances I might keep it as a badge of honour, but no.”

He reached for his bag and the stain pen within, and she said something he thought he’d never hear.

“I confess, Anthea, I’m besotted.”


	10. Laura Mercier Velour Lovers Lipstick in Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock & John in a broom cupboard at a crime scene.
> 
> The lipstick is [Laura Mercier Velour Lovers Lipstick in Addiction](https://www.lauramercier.com/makeup/lips/shop-all-lips/velour-lovers-lipstick-12700627.html).
> 
> The prompt is Unbreakable Kiss.

John pulled back. “Sherlock, we can’t do this.”

Sherlock hummed noncommittally. “We just did, John, so we _can._ ”

Their lips met again. Soft, pliant, wet. The kiss reminded John of waking up in Sherlock’s bed earlier that morning, which reminded John of all the other things they’d done in Sherlock’s bed earlier that morning. She curled her arms around Sherlock’s neck.

Their tongues touched. Soft, pliant, wet.

Sherlock’s tongue.

John thought about all the places Sherlock’s tongue had been mere hours prior, mapping John’s most sensitive areas and exploiting them, driving John mad.

“Oh, God, Sherlock, we _really_ shouldn’t do this,” John groaned. She buried her face in the wool of Sherlock’s coat.

Sherlock hummed again and kissed the top of John’s head. “For the first time ever, I am reconsidering my decision to help Lestrade.”

“Kissing in the broom cupboard of a crime scene is not on, Sherlock. But your lips…”

“ _Your_ lips, John. This morning, I didn’t anticipate the strength of your arousal upon wakening.”

“Solve this case, Sherlock, and I’ll put my lips all over you.”

“Good plan.”

“Christ, am I covered in lipstick?”

“No, I invested in a long-wearing brand that has been called ‘pizza proof.’”

“Well, if it can stand up to greasy cheese, I suppose it can stand up to my kisses. Let’s get back.”


	11. Maybelline Superstay Matte Ink in Poet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John writes a poem for Sherlock.
> 
> The lipstick is [Maybelline Superstay Matte Ink in Poet](https://www.lookfantastic.com/maybelline-superstay-24-matte-ink-lipstick-various-shades/11705408.html?affil=awin&utm_content=Skimlinks&utm_term=Sub+Networks&utm_source=AWin-78888&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_campaign=AffiliateWin&awc=6038_1586054477_8903cc67b78ad55d5948a186982ae68b).
> 
> The prompt was quick, good-bye kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who had read these. Hope it's a bit of light happy fluff for these troubling times.

“Bye, love. Have a good day.”

The press of John’s lips, quick and chaste, to hers.

So, this was what they did now. Well, one thing they did.

Good-bye kisses.

Sherlock spotted the jangle of metal. Footfall halfway down the steps stopped.

“Damn.”

Hurried footfall back up the stairs.

Sherlock raised the keys high.

John grabbed them.

“Thank you, love. Have a good day.”

Another kiss.

Sherlock smiled.

Another descending scale cut short. Another hurried return.

Sherlock frowned.

“I almost forgot. For you. See you tonight.”

“Bye.”

Sherlock unfolded the paper that had been thrust in her hand.

_Your kisses are a trove, a precious find,_

_from hesitant first brush to heady stride._

_Your lips touch mine, all sense I leave behind,_

_and in your love, my want and need abide._

_From midnight’s passion to bright morn’s hello,_

_in shades of red and pink and sinful nude,_

_my lips touch yours and simply can’t let go._

_Your kiss is remedy for every mood._

_Such tenderness conveyed with mouth’s caress,_

_connected to each other in this way._

_You say, I say, what words cannot express_

_with lips that slide and slip and have their sway._

_And so, until your kiss my bliss restores,_

_I’ll wait with lips, love-sealed, forever yours._

So, this is what they did, too.

Sonnets about kisses.

Sherlock blushed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
